


breathe again

by vosian_nightmare



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, These Ducks Have Trauma and You Can't Tell Me Otherwise, also everyone is at least a little bisexual, just a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vosian_nightmare/pseuds/vosian_nightmare
Summary: The life and times of four Duck cousins, to each of them their own but in the end they're all just trying to learn how to be again.-four character studies
Comments: 21
Kudos: 81





	1. Work the Land

**Author's Note:**

> me, reading through random poems on the internet because that's where i am in this quarantine: hmm im gonna write some fanfic about some cartoon ducks
> 
> also me: but make it deep
> 
> all of the chapters are written and updates'll be on mondays :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And if longing seizes you for sailing the stormy seas,  
> when the Pleiades flee mighty Orion  
> and plunge into the misty deep  
> and all the gusty winds are raging,  
> then do not keep your ship on the wine-dark sea  
> but, as I bid you, remember to work the land.
> 
> — Hesoid, Works and Days 618–623

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is me, doing a character study on the cousins cause theyre my current favs. 
> 
> first up is my dad, your dad, all our dad: donnie boy. 
> 
> no beta we die like men 
> 
> :3

-

The oldest memory Donald has is of an argument with his sister.

The two were in the car with their parents, before they died. They were fighting over something stupid he can’t quite rememeber, and their parents made an offhand comment about how they could fight over the colour of the sky. The idea popped into their heads simultaneously and the two hellians started to jokingly argue about whether the sky was a blue-ish grey or more of a pure grey.

Except he and his sister couldn’t just act like they were arguing, and within minutes it was a full blown fight that their parents had to break up. The memory makes him smile every time he thinks of it.

-

Their parents died when they were ten in a car accident. Suddenly orphaned and alone, they were shipped off to a great uncle they’d only met twice after the funeral. He was mean and closed off and intimidating in a way that made the twins feel even more alienated against the world.

Well, that was until a month in he caught them playing with a pair of swords they found in the garage. Instead of getting mad or panicking over their choice of toys, he corrected their form and taught them how to sword-fight properly. He did take the real swords away, though.

(Duckworth later yelled at all three of them when he found them play-fighting each other on the staircase.)

After that, a switch seemed to have flipped in the manor. Their uncle ate dinner with them almost every night, and told them about his old adventures while he and his sister listened with wide-eyes. He listened when Donald needed to rant about something. He helped Della with her Junior Woodchuck badges when she asked. The manor went from dark and dreary and sad to alive just like that. 

And then more change came when their uncle asked if the two of them wanted to join him on an adventure. 

When he asked, Della had squealed so loud and high-pitched it left Donald’s ears ringing. Donald, on the other hand, was speechless. An adventure? With Scrooge? It was- He was- It was everything he and his sister wanted since they came to live with him almost a year and a half ago! 

Needless to say, they tagged along. And Donald would later look back and say that that was about where his life went downhill. 

Three days later he would wake up in the hospital with a broken arm and a concussion, and a sister whooping about how cool that was and how she saved the day. And despite the twangs of pain every time Della would jump on the hospital bed and the headache the lights gave him, Donald couldn’t wait for their next adventure. 

It was the first time he’d get hurt on one of these but most certainly not the last. Even when they got older, and their cousins started joining them, and he still seemed to be the one taking the brunt of the damage, he couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else. 

Defeating the bad guy and saving the day, being in danger. That was a sort of adrenaline rush you couldn’t get anywhere else. Donald was happy and his family felt whole.

It was bound to end sometime. 

-

Middle school came and went and suddenly they were in high school with the existential threat of the future breathing down their necks. And Della wasn’t taking any of it seriously.

Donald studied and planned and worked so that he could have as many options open as possible. Della shrugged off her failed take of the ASVAB, saying the Air Force was more of a back up plan, really. The reality of what Della meant blindsided him.

She planned to adventure with their uncle after high school, probably until one of them got too injured to keep going or even _died_. 

That was Della’s plan but it wasn’t Donald’s, and that fact seemed to blindside Della because they had the biggest fight the two will ever have (until the Spear) the day she learns he’s leaving for college. Without her.

Donald said a lot of things he regretted in that fight but he doesn’t regret leaving. Not wholly, anyways. 

Because at college he meets who’ll become his best friends. The three drop out together and travel the world playing music. It was the most fun he's had in ages and he feels happy again. But, as all things that seem to make him happy, it was bound to come to an end. They simply weren't making enough money to pay for food or to keep a roof over their heads, so the band was disbanded and the Three Caballeros went their own ways. Donald didn't want to just go back to college after that. 

So instead he takes the ASVAB, scores in the 90th percentile, and is shipped off two years after he graduates high school.

-

Donald gets honorably discharged less than four years later.

He comes home noticeably different. He doesn't talk about his time in the Navy.

-

He joins them on adventures again. It helped. His VA therapist said, after Donald explained to them his unusual childhood, that it’s the sense of normalcy he’s feeling and that he should keep it up. So he did, for a few years. 

And Donald found himself having fun again. He was back with his family and he felt like the worst of it was over. Like the storm was over and it was smooth sailing from here.

(In hindsight, it was the eye of the storm. The storm was coming back, stronger, with winds blowing in a direction you weren't prepared for.)

And things only seemed to get better when Della got pregnant. Of course, the father ran when he heard the news and Della had to physically stop her brother from hunting him down, but she was excited nonetheless. Della didn't need that deadbeat when she has her family. And with every update she only seemed to get more excited. Triplets! And they're probably all boys!

And then the eggs were laid and it was a waiting game.

It was also the first time Donald got a proper look into his sister’s head since the pregnancy started. 

“I’m scared, Donald.” She said one night as they sat together on the roof of the manor, stargazing. She had her head on his shoulder as she just let the words tumble out. “I have three sons, Don. Me! And I’m supposed to take care of them? How?” Della let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to ‘cause you have me.” She looked up at Donald, who was smirking. 

She smirked back. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I have read every book on parenting in Scrooge’s library, and then some." He puffed his chest out and Della let out a little laugh. "I even skimmed some of those child psychology books.” 

“Uh-huh,” Della said, skeptical.

“Yeah,” Donald smiled, then cringed. “You know, a lot of what we went through as kids would be considered traumatic.” Della hummed. 

“Sounds about right.”

“They'd probably love to study us.”

“A couple of good ol’ fashioned basket cases.”

-

Everything was going so well until everything seemed to fall apart so, so fast. 

-

Suddenly Donald was taking care of three new born baby boys in a small, cramped apartment in the downtown part of the city, the only part of the city where you couldn’t immediately see the Money Bin or the manor. Suddenly he was juggling having two or three jobs while taking care of his ( _-don’t think about it-_ ) sons. Suddenly his free time dropped to zero, and he couldn’t make it to therapy, let alone afford it.

Suddenly, it became so, so hard to just _breathe_.

-

Gladstone and Fethry dropped by occasionally to help.

To grieve.

Fethry visited most often, and didn't stop even after Donald yelled at him for talking about Della to the boys.

(Donald’s anger has been on a hair trigger since he came back from the Navy, and since- _it_ \- it’s been worse than ever.)

(Thankfully, Fethry’s never been one to hold grudges.)

Gladstone drops by whenever he’s in town and Donald puts him on babysitting duty since the boys love him, even if he’s not quite the best at changing diapers or putting them to bed. But he keeps them safe and refuses pay, so Donald lets him babysit despite how easily Gladstone gets on his nerves. 

(Donald snapped at Gladstone several times. Gladstone and Donald have never been particularly close, so it was only a matter of time before he left for good.)

(He always came back.)

-

The boys grew up.

Donald went through jobs like a chainsmoker goes through cigarettes. He loses apartment after apartment. For a time, he and the boys lived in the minivan just long enough for him to save up enough money to buy an old boat. It needs a little TLC but it’s a more permanent roof over their heads. Donald breathes a little easier. 

Then pre-school was starting up and the boys beg and beg for him not to leave. He’s late to work by the time he can pry Louie off his leg, but it’s shrugged off with a laugh when he explains what happened. He comes home that night to three “self-portraits” made from old macaroni and glitter, among other things. He hangs them up on the wall. 

(When the boys turn nine they make him take them down, but he keeps them hidden away with a powerful amulet and an old picture of him in uniform with his shipmates.)

-

When the boys turn eleven, he runs out of options. 

(His anger about what happened ran out a long time ago, replaced with a sort of exhausting, never ending grief.)

That crazy old bird was the last babysitter he knew off the top of his head, and with no replacement and the boys being, well, _themselves_ his third worst case scenario comes true. 

Donald takes the boys to the last place he ever wanted to take them.

Of course, his uncle is as ungrateful as ever, even managing to have an attitude after Donald introduced him to the boys. Della’s boys.

(The boys he orphaned.)

Suddenly the idea of leaving his kids with Scrooge seemed like an awful idea, but it was too late. He was being dragged on a work trip and a call from Scrooge saying he can handle the boys for the weekend pretty much cemented the fact that he was stuck with his uncle babysitting them until he gets back.

But of course the work trip turned out to be an adventure, one he was being held hostage on. 

And of course Scrooge took the kids on a trip to Atlantis.

It was pretty on the nose, really. 

-

If you told Donald a year ago that he would be (sorta) moved back into the mansion with his kids going on regular adventures with his uncle, he’d probably laugh. Or yell, depending on how his day was going. 

But now the boys had a solid, non-mobile roof over their heads. They had a best friend/sister in the housekeeper’s granddaughter. They had a safety net. 

Junk food, fancy food, Scottish food, British food, and even the occasional pizza from the place Donald could never really afford. So it was really expected when they started to drift away from him. After all, he still slept in his hammock in the houseboat. 

The thought of ‘ _they don’t need you anymore_ ’ seemed to never go away. 

But the little things kept those thoughts at bay. Like how Louie would still seek him out after a particularly nasty nightmare. Or how Huey refuses to drink hot cocoa made by anyone else, even the housekeeper, because Donald knows how it needs to be made without it tasting wrong. Or how Dewey would go to him after a nasty fall cause he says Donald has the best band-aids to hide the fact that Donald is the only non-triplet he’ll allow himself to cry in front of. 

Donald raised these boys, and a part of him will always be with them.

-

Stress only leads to more stress. It’s something his second therapist (the one he started going to after they started staying at the manor again, one not with the VA) says and it couldn’t fit any better here. 

A cruise. A nice, relaxing cruise to help with his stress . Of course he had to see something crash, something that looks a lot like the Spear of Selene , so of course he had to investigate. 

Of course Della wasn’t there.

Of course he would be shot into space.

Stress leads to more stress leads to him being held captive by moon aliens leads to him being stranded on an island for weeks. 

Of course. It’s pretty on the nose. 

-

Alien invasions, sibling reunions, getting told off for something not his fault. Just a normal day, really.

-

Being back was… something. Della being back was… something else. 

The kids all took it in their own way. Dewey seemed to be the closest with Della, and that didn’t surprise Donald at all. Dewey was like Della in the most obvious ways. Huey was a little more reluctant but they found time to bond over Woodchucks and other nerdy stuff. Louie was still a little on edge around her. 

For the first few nights Louie would crawl into the hammock with Donald, nightmare or no, saying how he missed Donald so much and apologizing for not realizing he wasn’t on the cruise. 

Of course the idea that they didn’t know he was missing hurt, but hearing his boy’s voice crack when he apologized hurt more. So Donald hugged him close and shushed him and told him it was okay.

(He didn’t tell him about the nightmares, the ghostly feeling of gold around his beak, a hand around the back of his neck holding him over a ledge and turning his words, his _impediment,_ against him. He didn’t tell them about the other nightmares, so why mention these?)

-

Donald and Della spent two decades together. Living and growing together. 

So why couldn’t they just click again?

It was two months after the Moonvasion. It was also two in the morning. Donald just finished up a call to Gladstone, who was in Europe.

(Gladstone worried Donald, sometimes. They'd never been close, really, but after the Lui Hai incident Gladstone's been… different. On edge. Donald tried to talk to him more often since then but Gladstone’s never wanted to talk about it. So instead they’d just talk about their travels. It was light conversation. But it also meant that Donald could track the fact that his cousin was avoiding Asia all together. That was a conversation for when Gladstone came to visit, though.)

It was two a.m. and Donald was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands, replaying the fight he had with Della the day before over and over in his head. 

( _“I was alone to pick up the pieces, Della!”_ )

( _“They are my kids!”_ )

(Donald pulls at his head feathers, hoping the pain will erase the things said.)

Their fights have never been quiet, this one included. The entire mansion could hear it and it left the boys pretty torn up. They, along with Webby, had disappeared and if it weren’t for Duckworth there’d probably be search parties sent out.

They were still in the mansion but Duckworth refused to tell them their location, so here Donald is over 8 hours later, still waiting for the kids to resurface. 

A voice confirmed he’s not alone in his vigil. “Still up?” He jerked, having not noticed another person. Della gently placed a cup of black coffee in front of him with a soft, sad smile. He muttered a thanks as she sat across from him with her own cup, the contents almost as light as her feathers.

They sat like that for a few minutes, and Donald tried to figure out if the silence was awkward or not. Deciding it was, at least for him, he decided to break the quiet. “Della-” He tried before she cut him off.

“I’m sorry.” She almost whispered. For a second Donald almost thought he imagined it.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize.” Della sniffled and he was suddenly aware she was crying softly. The kitchen was dark save for the light drifting through from the living room behind Della. Her entire face was cast in shadow as she curled up on the chair but Donald could see the way the mug in her hands shook slightly. 

“No, no. I do.” She said, pushing back. “I-I took the Spear. I abandoned my family.” She looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. “And then I left you with three kids, Donald. Then I try to insert myself into your family dynamic like nothing was wrong.” Donald tried not to flinch at _‘your family’_ but Della had looked away anyways. 

“Della, hey,” He reached across the table and gently tapped the table until she looked at him again. “this is just as much your family as it is mine. And yeah, you fucked up.” It was her turn to flinch but he kept going. “But you also suffered in a way that far, far outweighs what you did.” He gently placed his hand on hers in what he hoped was comforting and squeezed, gently. “Things are gonna be okay.” 

Della laughed at that. It was a small thing, followed by sniffling. “Yeah? How’d you figure that?”

“Cause I said so.” Della laughed again, a little more confidently. She took her hand back and wiped her face with her sleeve. 

“Look at us,” she sniffled again. “Two saps sitting in the dark drinking shitty, lukewarm coffee.”

He smiled back. “Just a couple of good ol' fashioned basket cases.” 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯¯\\_(ツ)_/¯¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> i come from a navy family (not fun. i went to 4 different high schools) so my portrayal of navy!don is based on my own family and what ive experienced. 
> 
> also i am a biology major not a psych major so forgive me i don't know much about psychology but if you need to know how light pollution affects the behavior of insects for your bugs life fanfic hit me up ✌


	2. The Moon Is Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Moon is down,  
> The Pleiades. Midnight,  
> The hours flow on,  
> I lie, alone.  
> -Sappho, The Moon is down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i know what i said about updating but my city was basically on fire for the last week or so
> 
> i had other things on my mind
> 
> but here it is, with rough editing 
> 
> enjoy

Della liked to say she was the older twin.

That was a lie, but she liked to think it anyway. 

People believed her until their personalities really started to come out. Della’s recklessness had her pegged as the youngest from early on when compared to Donald’s more cautious approach to life. He was also the one who took charge when it really mattered ‘cause Donald was always more aware about situations. He saved her ass more times than she can count. 

She was aware that she was the younger one but she didn’t have to like it. 

While Della didn’t like being serious, she hated not being taken seriously more. That fact really came out during their parents’ funeral when all the adults seemed to talk down to them like they couldn’t possibly understand what was happening around them, why, they were only ten!

She hated it. She hated being talked to like a baby just because she acted childish, but she hated it even more when someone talked that way to her brother just because he has a speech impediment. 

Their parent sent him to speech therapy until he came home crying because he couldn’t say some stupid phrase about rubber babies. They stopped making him go even though every other adult seemed to pull their parents aside and ask how his therapy was going or, if they were particularly nasty, how much longer until he was “fixed”. 

Their parents didn’t get as mad as Della thought they should have. 

Thankfully, their great uncle never seemed to have a problem with Donald’s impediment. He seemed to treat both them with the same sort of indifference so he was safe from Della’s wrath. For now.

But Uncle Scrooge warmed up to them eventually, and eventually he offered to take the two on an adventure somewhere in Asia.

Duckworth had tried to point out the fact that the kids were grieving ten year olds, but Della wasn’t going to let the butler keep her from an adventure.

Thankfully Scrooge seemed to wave off Duckworth’s concerns and within the week they were on a cargo plane heading to some small island in the Indian Ocean. 

Donald getting hurt was not a part of the plan. There was some other group of adventurers looking for the jewel-statue thing and had taken Donald as ‘insurance’.

They gave him back after Scrooge let them get away with the thingy. Donald was unconscious and Della was crying. He was just lying there, and he wasn’t waking up and for a second Della thought that he had left her alone like their parents had. Eventually Scrooge carried them both back to the plane after having checked her brother for injuries and finding only a broken arm along with a small head injury.

The wait at the hospital was only about an hour, but for a ten year old who just went through a lot and thought her brother might die at any moment it might as well have been a month. The nurse was kind, though, with rainbows on his scrubs and a soft voice. He told them that Donald should be asleep for a few more hours and that they were finally allowed into his room to see him. Scrooge had just sat in one of the chairs next to the bed but Della decided that Donald was too small for a bed this big and sat on the bed near his feet while they waited. 

He woke up eventually. Della had spun a big, obviously fake tale about how she fought _all_ the bad guys off, saved his butt, and saved the day. Donald listened intently, believing it. He even smiled at the exciting bits no matter how implausible they were.

-

Scrooge was reluctant to take them out again after that but folded after a few months of begging and nagging. They came up with a set of rules, one being that they will only adventure on the weekends and summer (unless something really, really cool and time-sensitive came up in which yeah, that rule can be thrown out). Another was that they are to learn self-defense. _Proper_ self defense, not whatever Scrooge could show them. That one was Duckworth’s rule but it was implemented anyways.

And thus began their exploits. For years, it was the three of them against the world of magic and adventure. The Triple Threat. 

They could take on the most powerful curses and witches and sorcerers together, but then she’d have to go learn biology and history during the school week.

School, to Della, sucked.

She didn’t have to try as hard as her brother when they were in middle school, so she never learned how to study. That, of course, came back to haunt her in high school when they were learning chemistry and algebra. Even Gladstone, who was a year ahead of them, gave up trying to tutor her after a while.

So she cruised through school with a report card full of ‘C’s and ‘D’s and ‘‘ _Della needs to learn to pay attention_ ’’s.

It didn’t matter, anyways. The only school she needed was the private piloting lessons her uncle gifted to her for her 16th birthday.

(She was already very familiar with flying a plane at that point but the government doesn’t need to know that.)

-

When asked what she was going to do after high school, Della had responded with “adventures”. She was born to do this and it was the one thing she could see herself doing. But after she started to get looks and people telling her their opinions on that she changed her answer to “air force”. Her brother looked at her with pleasant surprise the first time he heard her say it (despite there being no enthusiasm whatsoever in her voice).

Her lack of enthusiasm came out even more in her ASVAB score. She had gotten too low a score to be a pilot (a nurse?! That’s what they recommend she do?! Oh, _hell_ no.) so the Air Force was out.

Much to Donald’s chagrin. But then he had to go and say that he was _leaving_.

Their fight was dirty and full of awful things, and afterwords Donald left for college anyways. Or maybe because of it.

Della would never admit it but she curled up on his old bed and cried herself to sleep the night he left.

But then she learns that he dropped out of college and traveled the country with some friends and Della couldn’t help but feel proud of him for being more of a free spirit.

(She also couldn’t help but feel jealous. Donald and her cousins were her only real friends growing up, and she knew that it was the same for Donald. But now he has friends while she’s still adventuring with her uncle. She tried not to let it get to her.)

Then suddenly he’s home, even if he says it’s only for a short time while he prepares to join the Navy. They catch up and it really hits her just how much she missed her brother. 

When he leaves again, Della couldn’t feel more proud. Or more alone.

-

The Donald that left wasn’t the Donald that came back. 

(A part of her tells her he didn’t come back at all. She squishes that thought down fast and hard.)

He spends four years doing some top secret thing and then is honourably discharged and sent home. Della tries to ask him what happened, why he was discharged early. Donald’s eyes get glassy and she doesn’t ask again.

On top of that, Donald’s anger seemed to be worse than ever and every Thursday he has an appointment at the VA hospital downtown. During those appointments Della would sit in the kitchen writing out what she wants to say to him, what she wants to ask. It’s one of those days when Duckworth looked over her shoulder and saw what she was doing.

“ _‘Why, in the name of all things holy, did you yell at a frog?’_ ” He read off her paper, making her jump. Duckworth had this ability to just pop up behind her silently, like a ghost. She offered to buy him a little bell to wear but he shot that down with one of his famous glares.

“Ah, shit, dude. Can’t a girl get some privacy up in here?” He rolled his eyes.

“What are you writing? I didn’t even know you _could_ write.” Usually Della would be right on his tail with a comeback but instead she just frowned. Sensing that this might be a serious issue, Duckworth sat down at the table with her.

“Have you-” She started before frowning. “Donald’s acting weird.” She settled on, twirling the pen in her hand. Duckworth simply hummed.

“Is that what _this_ ,” he motioned vaguely at the paper, “is all about?”

“Yeah. I just-” She groaned and tugged at her head feathers. “We used to tell each other _everything_ but ever since he;s come back he’s been Mr. Broody.” She bit at the pen, adding to the bite marks already there, before nervously adding, “I think something happened.”

Duckworth hummed again. “I know it’s not my place,” he dropped his voice to just above a whisper, “but back in the day, I had some old friends that were soldiers and, well, he’s been showing the same signs of trauma that I saw in some of my friends. They called it P.T.S.D., I think.” Della looked down and bit at the pen a little more before scribbling _PTSD_ on the corner of her paper.

“Thanks, D.” He nodded and stood up.

“Della, while it’s admirable that you want to help your brother, it’s his choice in the end if he wants to talk about it with you.” Della nodded and Duckworth left.

Della stared at the four letters on the paper and continued to chew on the pen. 

-

Della did not go to sleep that night. Instead, she found herself at Scrooge’s library looking up any and every book in there on post-war psychology and P.T.S.D.

Studying may not be her forte but she would do this. For Donald.

-

She needed someone to help her with her new Waddlepod. Someone in the bay was illegally setting off fireworks way too close to the Money Bin and Della just knew that her Uncle Scrooge was on the phone complaining to everyone and anyone who might be able to fix it, so he was out. Duckworth has a phonograph in his room and Della’s never seen him so much as touch anything more technologically advanced except to clean it so he was definitely out. So that only left her brother.

Della rolled her eyes and set out to find him. Despite the fact that it was almost eleven o’clock at night, Donald wasn’t in his room. She jumped a little as another firework went off but continued her search, checking the next best place: the kitchen.

Because only her brother would try to make a cake randomly in the middle of the night.

She watched as he poured the batter, singing along to some awful pop song playing loudly though his headphones. Why did she have to be twins with such a nerd?

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes again, she walked over to him and plucked a headphone out.

“Hey!” She yelled in his ear, making him drop the bowl and sending splatters of chocolate everywhere. He swatted her away and paused the music before picking up the bowl.

“What?” He snapped, throwing the cake in the oven. 

“Something’s wrong with my Waddlepoad.” Della shoved her ‘pod into his hand as soon as the oven was closed.

“There’s always something wrong with your ‘pod.” He grumbled. She leaned on the counter as he fiddled with her Waddlepod, pointedly ignoring the cursing and hitting of said Waddlepod.

“So, why’re you making a cake, anyways?” She asked. Another firework popped in the distance. “Duckworth’s b-day isn’t till next Monday, right…?” She trailed off as her eyes fell back on her brother. 

Before, he was casually leaning on the table, a mirror to her own chill posture. But now he was ramrod straight, Waddlepod loose in his hands. “Donnie?” She asked carefully. She stood up when he noticed he was breathing too fast and too shallow. “Donald?” She tried again. Another firework went off and this time Della saw it; the flinch, the way his breath hitched in a way that shot electricity down Della’s back.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, in the corner that held the information she took in that one long night at the library, said _help him._ But a part of her, a bigger part of her, was afraid. What was happening?

But the empty look in his eyes went almost as soon as it came.

Donald, out of whatever spell (no it wasn't a spell it was _trauma-_ ) had its hold on him, loudly dropped Della's Waddlepad on the counter and left without a word.

She didn't follow, too shaken with what she'd seen, what that implies.

-

Donald, eventually, talks to her. Opens up, even if just a little. But it's enough.

Della makes sure he never has an episode alone.

Not until the Spear, that is.

-

Donald had hated every single one of Della’s boyfriends. He never had a problem with the girlfriends, it was only ever the boyfriends Donald would get pissy with.

And after her last one skipped town after knocking her up, she can’t say she blames him.

It took a lot of convincing on her part to keep Donald from hunting him down and mostly consisted of her saying she doesn’t want her kid to meet their uncle in the prison visitor section.

That got him to calm down. A little. Enough.

Scrooge, who was also told he can’t hunt the bastard down, had been so excited. He, with the help of Donald, spent the next week turning the spare bedroom next to Della’s into a nursery for the “wee bairn”.

Well, pretty soon that “wee bairn” turned into “wee bairns”.

Triplets. Because even twins would be too easy for Della, right Universe?

The only good thing that came out of her pregnancy (other than three kids who she loves nearest and dearest) was the excuse “Which one of us is carrying three extra people inside her?” that won her any and every argument.

Soon enough the eggs were out and they needed three names as soon as possible.

“I still think Robbie, Reggie, and Reuben are good.” Della threw out but was quickly shut down.

“You’re not naming a son after a sandwich, I don't care if it's your favorite.” Scrooge pointed his pen at her as she pouted. All the pens in the manor had bite marks at this point and Scrooge had long since stopped complaining about it a long time ago. “I think Seathan, Seoras, and Seonaidh.”

“Uncle Scrooge I don’t even know how to spell those.” Della groaned and shifted in her chair again, this time throwing her legs over the armrest _._

“I actually kinda like the s-alliteration. So maybe Steve, Steven, and,” Donald thought for a moment before settling on, “Sven.”

“Too dumb, too similar, and too dumb.” Della lifted her head up with a smirk. “That’s it. We’re going with my o.g. three.”

  
  
“ _No_!” They both shouted.

“I am not allowing you to name your kids Turbo, Jet, and Rebel.” Scrooge pushed his paper of names towards her. She pushed it back.

“I like those names. _And_ I did do all the hard work so I get the final say. So Turbo, Jet, and Rebel it is.” Della left the kitchen to check on her eggs, a smile on her face as she heard her uncle groan.

-

A _rocket._

A real, actual space rocket _for space._

She had the best family ever. 

Of course, she knows she should probably wait, but this is _Della Duck_ we're talking about here! 

Patience is not one of her more well known virtues. Or one of her virtues at all, really. 

So she bravely donned a helmet, kissed her picture, and set off towards the stars. 

For her boys.

-

**WARNING**

**WARNING**

**WARN-**

**_-_ **

Ten years. 

****

Ten years alone with no one but the moon mite and a crude drawing she made of her boys. And dust. 

****

But she has a rocket. She has Oxychew. She has determination. 

****

She will get home if it kills her. 

-

Huey, Dewey, and Louie. 

Immediately she knows who picked the names. If it was up to her uncle, they’d be named Mhoirbheinn and Iàcob and Scrooge Jr. The nerdy, rhyming names give them away as one of Donald’s picks. 

Speaking of which, the ungrateful little _prick_ couldn’t even be here to greet his long lost sister. His _twin_. 

Whatever.

She can wait a few weeks, she supposes. 

-

She can’t wait. 

Her hands shake at the thought of seeing him again, after so long. 

So she falls into old habits. The kitchen table, a piece of paper, a pen, and her thoughts. Sometimes Duckworth, who is now _an actual ghost_ , will sit with her again. Like old times. 

Within a week all the pens in the manor have bite marks again.

-

Donald wasn’t on the cruise. 

He was on the _moon._

(the thought of him being up there, alone, like she was, for ten years- _breathe, Della-_ ) 

Being held captive by the same people who helped her get home. If she hadn’t seen the message from Penumbra or the invasion itself, or the message from Lunaris, she wouldn’t believe it. She thinks a part of her still doesn’t. 

But here he is. Right in front of her, with a stupid beard and a stupid watermelon, and a stupid outfit and a stupid face she missed so, _so_ much. 

Maybe now they can be a family.

-

Donald used to sing the song, _her_ song to them and something in Della breaks.

-

After the Moonvasion is… weird. 

There are people everywhere she looks. Donald almost never leaves her side, if only to check on the kids. 

(Her boys. His kids.)

It’s so overwhelming she can’t breathe. 

  
At first her go to stop is the old nursery. It’s locked but a little pleading to Duckworth gives her an open door and a worried look from their now-ghost butler. 

Unsurprisingly (well, a little surprisingly) the nursery is unchanged from when she… from the last time she saw it. Of course it would be since Donald took the eggs after Della… after. 

Carefully, she sits in the old rocking chair in the middle of the three cribs. She gently rocks in the chair while rocking the empty crib in front of her and wonders where it all went wrong. 

She breathes. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn near everyone in my family has ptsd cause of the military woo 🎉🎉🎉 life sucks 
> 
> this is just about the only psychology thing i feel sorta comfortable writing about but its only cause i have experience with ptsd 
> 
> my offer for bug info still stands 🐜🐜🐜
> 
> either way support your local protests 💕
> 
> Black Lives Matter 💕
> 
> Trans Lives Matter 💕
> 
> love yall 💕


	3. Herbst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in the night the earth, a heavy ball,  
> Into a starless solitude must fall.  
> We all are falling.  
> -Rainer Maria Rilke, Herbst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being👏 Left👏 At👏 The👏 Bottom👏 Of👏 The👏 Ocean👏 Has👏 Consequences👏👏
> 
> fethry is a baby that should be protected at all costs

-

Fethry knew his cousins saw him as the baby. He knew he was aloof even before he knew the word for it. And he knew that people would sometimes try to take advantage of his aloofness but he wasn’t aware enough to stop it. His cousins were.

Fethry would hang out with Gladstone the most when they were elementary school since they lived the closest and went to the same school, but all four of them went to the same middle and high schools, so they would hang out after school together, mostly near the stream a few blocks from the school. Della would push Donald in and laugh until he pulled her in after. Gladstone found a tree nearby where he would nap or read some book or eat a snack. Sometimes he would use his weird ‘luck’ thing Donald would get mad about to help Fethry look for worms or snails.

Unless some of the more rambunctious kids decided they wanted to pick on Fethry that day. They would steal his stuff and rip apart his notebooks until Fethry cried. Then they would laugh at him for crying and say they were only kidding, leaving him to pick up the mess they left of his stuff. Those days he would see his cousins waiting for him.

“Who did this?” They would ask. Fethry would shrug.

Donald would get really mad. So mad his face would go as red as tomato. Della would keep interrogating him about what happened until Fethry told her to drop it and she would help him and Gladstone tape his notebook back together.

In the next few days the boys that hurt him would show up with a black eye or two and avoid him completely until the whole thing blew over, in which they would just do it again. Or a different group would be mean to him. Or laugh at him. Or pretend to befriend him to suddenly ignore him. Or to use him to cheat on a biology test.

Whatever happened, he would have his cousins, his _family_ there to help him pick up the pieces

-

Fethry remembers when Della died.

Well, died isn’t the right term since she was marooned ( _trapped_ ) on the moon but they didn’t know that. Their Uncle Scrooge didn’t know that, poor Donald didn’t know that. 

Fethry didn’t know, but he theorized it at some point. Among others. 

He cried alongside his cousins when the news came but not for long. True to form, Fethry began to make stories in his head. Maybe she was orbiting the Earth. Maybe she was picked up by an alien ship and she has to help them revolt against an evil king before she can come home cause Della could never sit idly by and watch someone take advantage of others. She defended him from bullies the most when they were in school. It wasn’t out of character.

Fethry tried to tell the stories to Donald. He didn’t take it very well.

Soon Fethry would learn that Donald and Scrooge were fighting. Gladstone told him that if he had any semblance of self preservation then to stay out of it but Fethry couldn’t stand the thought of his family fighting. He tried over and over again for weeks to get the two to talk or to at least let him be a middle man.

His ideas were met with scowls, and yelling, and the occasional curse thrown towards the other.

So he kept thinking about Della, kept telling himself and anyone who’ll listen his ideas. His stories. The boys’ favorite after they hatched was the alien one, but Donald found out about it and yelled at Fethry for talking about their mother.

Fethry was pretty sure that the babies didn’t understand his stories were about their mother, that they wouldn’t remember the stories anyways. He stopped anyway.

-

Years later, when his Uncle Scrooge offered him a job at an undersea lab Fethry shook his uncle’s hand so hard he heard the old duck’s wrist pop. And then he hugged him. Hard. So hard he heard another bone in the old duck pop. 

It was a dream come true, to be surrounded by water, by the ocean. The Deep Blue. 

Fethry fell in love with the lab, at first. 

The Aquavator, the lighthouse, the undersea vents, the way it was designed. Everything. It was a marvel and Fethry was amazed at every little thing. The way the Aquavator moved, the fish swimming outside the glass, even the way one of the plates in Section 8B squeaked when stepped on. 

  
When he was first hired on, there were a few scientists still there. Seven, to be exact. Fethry would ask them questions about their work and they would explain excitedly that they were studying the hydrothermal vents and what they were and what they did. Fethry would listen intently and the scientists seemed to love him and his curiosity. 

At first.

Fethry would continue to ask questions and the answers got less and less enthusiastic and detailed. It took a little over a year for all their experiments and studies to finish and for the scientists to all request transfers to more modern, less aquatic labs. It took a little over a year for Fethry to be left behind.

All alone.

But he had his team, and he had his lab, and he had his mission. That was all he needed, at first. He thought about the scientists who would tell him about science and his uncle who would tell him stories about adventuring. Soon enough Fethry started seeking out scientific discoveries. He would find amazing adventures and would tell his uncle, who would come join him to see the way the light bounced off these rocks or the new bacteria Fethry found near this sleeping sea monster. And Scrooge would come when he called again. And again. Until a few years later when Fethry called with news about an amazing new species of giant gold squid he found and no one answered. He sat by the can talking into it for hours. Until he got tired of waiting and decided to call again in the morning.

But there was still no answer. And there wouldn't be for years, no matter what new, cool thing he found. 

He tried to call his uncle, his cousins. He sat by the can with the string, staring at it for days. Until he understood. 

His uncle left him down here, to watch over some old undersea lab that no one used. To clean after the scientists that were long gone, to watch the dark sea grow closer and closer every night until he went mad.

It filled Fethry with an anger he’s never really felt before. He was-

He could-

He was being left behind… his family was ignoring him… he doesn’t…

He was alone. He was well and truly alone at the bottom of the ocean.

-

Over the years Fethry continued to use the can-phone, despite knowing no one will answer. It was the closest he could get to actually talking to someone that wasn't a shrimp.

Not that he didn't love his team to bits! It was just, after Mitsy disappeared he's felt too guilty to talk to them. He lost their sister! One of their family! She was probably out there, all alone and scared.

So instead he keeps them in an automatic feeding tank on the halfway station. 

But Fethry's call gets answered one day. They didn't sound like Scrooge or Donald, but they were coming nonetheless. Fethry cleaned up a bit around the old run-down lab before taking the Aquavator to wait up at the lighthouse. 

For the first time in years, he was having guests!

-

The lil’ Donalds were fun. They answered his call and laughed at his jokes and listened to him talk and _answered his call_. The two boys were brave and smart and kind. And they thought he was smart, which was a first. They helped him find Mitsy (even if the blue one did want to hurt her at first. At first...). 

And suddenly he realizes the only home he’s known for years is gone. Destroyed. Crushed under the pressure of over a mile’s worth of water. 

But he wasn’t stuck at the bottom of the ocean anymore. 

He wasn’t alone anymore.

-

In the span of a few months Fethry has gone from forgotten at the bottom of the ocean to surrounded by family. Mitsy and Fethry ran into Gladstone’s new blimp over the Pacific. He hadn’t seen Gladstone in years and was excited to catch up (but wasn’t excited to hear that he was trapped in a casino for over a _year_ by some vampire-demon. Similarly, Gladstone seemed mad when all Fethry had to say when asked what he’s been up to for the last five years was that he was an undersea lab caretaker. Alone.) but Gladstone’s news of an alien invasion back home scared him. 

And suddenly Della was alive, and then they were fighting back and they were winning.

And they won.

They won and the invasion was over, and Fethry was on land again for the first time in over five years.

-

Three days after the Moonvasion, as they were calling it, Scrooge threw a huge party at the mansion. Well, it was probably small compared to what Scrooge is used to, with the invite list being close friends and family only but to Fethry there were just… so many people. So many people in the same place, all talking and laughing and talking to _him_ and-

And-

And-

-

Della found him out on one of the balconies half an hour after he very calmly and sensibly made a hasty exit. Totally.

“Hey, Feth.” She smiled and ignored the way he jumped, thankfully. “Not enjoying the party?”

His cheeks warmed. “No- I- See I…” He sputtered. Della laughed quietly.

“Don’t like parties anymore, eh?” She joined him leaning over the balcony. Della laughed softly again before talking. “I remember you would help Donald throw the biggest, most extra birthday parties. You always came up with the most elaborate and detailed games and stuff, and then not let anyone leave.” She turned to him, serious. “So what’s up?” 

Fethry sighed, defeated. “I don’t know.” She was right. He loved parties. So why was he out here, staring into the bay and struggling to just _breath_? He hated it. It wasn't like him. He just wanted to be himself again. What had happened to him? “I just- I guess I’m not used to being around this many people.” Fethry felt himself shrink in on himself as he talked. He also felt Della’s eyes drilling into him, filled with questions. He knows because he used to have that same look, just happier. More innocent. Naïve.

“What do you mean?” 

Fethry just shrugged and continued staring into the bay.

Della huffed. “I’m not leaving until you answer me. I’m _sick_ of not knowing anything 'cause no one wants to tell me things that might 'hurt my feelings' or some dumb shit.” Fethry looked up. She sounded genuinely angry at that and Fethry was suddenly reminded that she was stuck on the moon, alone, for _ten years_. She was probably the only one who knew what he was going through. What he went through. "So just- talk to me, Feathers."

So he did. He told her everything. It all spilled out, everything, from his theories about what happened to her to his job at the lab to his minor breakdown. Everything. He didn’t cry and she didn’t talk. Just listened until he was done.

When he was finally finished, she just sighed. The anger that she could see building up behind her eyes gone, replaced with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion hopeless solitary brought.

He knew the feeling.

They stood there, taking in the sights until she spoke again. “They’re all so...different.” She said, wistfully, as if she were talking to herself. “Kinda feels like you were left behind, huh?”

He smiled sadly. "But that's why we have each other, right?" Della looked at him. "To wait for each other. Like when one of a group has to tie their shoes, and the whole group doesn't stop but that one friend does. So we'll just have to be that one friend. Left behind, yeah, but together." He offered her a smile. 

"Together, yeah. I'd like that." 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fethry is a baby that should be protected at all costs and is super hard to write

**Author's Note:**

> :3c


End file.
